Acknowledgement: I claim nothing in this fanfiction. JK Rowling owns it all, as is only right.

Year Seven

We Can Finally Look Ahead

"I need to visit Gringotts," Harry said to Lupin. He had pulled his former teacher aside to get a little privacy, outside the hearing of the crowd inside the Weasleys' home.

It sounded odd, given the circumstances. It even sounded odd to Harry. The dash from the Dursleys' to the Burrow, Mundungus Fletcher losing his nerve and abandoning Mad Eye Moody, losing Hedwig, an altogether bad job. What in Merlin's name was Harry doing thinking about banking at a time like that?

"Harry, we've got a lot on our plates right at the moment," protested Lupin. "Can't this wait until a more appropriate time?"

"I don't think so," said Harry. "I'm going to need something that's in the Potter vault, I'm sure of it. I need to get it out."

"What do you want?" Lupin asked. "We'll arrange for someone to get you one and bring it to you."

"Wouldn't work," Harry shook his head. He looked around and spoke just for Lupin. "I need the Potter grimoire. I can't say just why except that I have to read in. Someone has to have had some similar problem at some time. Can you think of a way to get me in?"

Lupin didn't look very positive, but he nodded.

"Let me get back to you," he said.

Getting into Gringotts wasn't the challenge Lupin anticipated, once he discussed the problem with Tonks. She maintained cordial relations with the goblins of Gringotts because the bank figured, one way or another, in so many investigations. She got word to Ragnak, the director, that she would like to pay a call. She didn't say it was official, but neither did she say that it wasn't.

Ragnak, like all bankers, treated law enforcement personnel with respect. Banks, after all, depend on the civil authorities to keep the tides of corruption and mayhem from their peripheries so they can do an honest day's banking. It's a kind of symbiosis.

Tonks spent much of her time transforming her features, either for official, cover reasons, or because it amused her. She had no trouble doing a little wand work and changing Harry's looks just enough to make him look vaguely Mediterranean. She gave his wild hair a little curl, put him in a business suit and gave him a slim leather briefcase to carry, took his glasses and changed his eyes from green to brown. They walked up to the front door and were met by Ragnak's assistant, who conveyed them to the director's private office.

"Director," Tonks began.

"Auror Tonks," growled Ragnak. "I recognize our guest. Please explain, if you can."

"Very astute, sir," Tonks said, bowing. "A simple visit to the family vault. Current conditions out there on the street…"

"Understood," said Ragnak. "Perhaps not the way I would have done it, but no harm."

He turned to Harry.

"You have achieved your majority?"

"Yes, sir, July thirty-first," said Harry.

Ragnak nodded.

"I realize you're very busy at the moment, Mr. Potter, but when things settle down a bit you really must come in so Gringotts can brief you on some business matters. You are the head of the Potter family, with the usual rights and responsibilities."

Ragnak picked up what looked to Harry like a small bell and gave it a shake. The bell sound came out like a hammer pounding out steel on an anvil. Harry must have reacted.

"Just a little goblin humor," Ragnak said with a pointy-tooth showing grin, turning the visitors over to his assistant.

Harry invited Tonks inside when they had gotten down to the Potter vault. Harry looked and saw his envelope on the shelf where he'd left it when he'd been there with Daphne. Other than that one quick look he went straight to the old leather-bound books Daphne had brought to his attention when they'd discussed family magic.

"What are we looking for?" Tonks asked.

"The Potter grimoire," said Harry, "But I've got a problem."

"And that is…?" Tonks asked.

"These are all Potter grimoires," Harry said. "Then there are these. What's this name?"

Tonks took a look.

"Peverell," she said. "I don't think there are any Peverells left. They were a famous wizarding family, stuff of legend, you could say, but there aren't any Peverells around that I know of. If the end of a line was a witch it's possible her family grimoires passed to her descendants. Maybe she married a Potter."

Harry, looking for the current Potter grimoire, became more and more frustrated. Time was passing, and they really needed to be going. Frustrated, he took the most recent volume, whose last entry was dated well back into the nineteenth century. Something caught Harry's eye as he strode toward the vault door. He reached out for an impressive velvet-covered box, took it down from its shelf and opened it. Inside was a heavy gold ring with an inset crest. Harry looked at the assistant.

"Let's see," said the goblin, gesturing to Harry to bring the ring into some better light.

"It's yours, milord," he said. "It is a token of your office. You are the Potter."

Harry looked at Tonks and removed the ring from the box. She nodded.

Harry slipped the ring on the third finger of his right hand and felt it adjust its size.

A dozen voices called out 'Huzzah' and 'About time, for Merlin's sake' and 'Well done, lad' from the portraits hung about the vault. Harry turned and held up his hand for the portraits to see, then bowed. Something stirred inside him and Harry thought he'd better leave his ancestors with a little valedictory.

"However this finishes, he will know what it means to provoke the Potters," he said, to more shouts of encouragement. Slipping the grimoire into his attaché Harry exited the vault. A portrait of a witch dressed in a fairly recent style hung near the door. She gave Harry a wink as he passed.

"Look up Desdemona," she said and gave Harry a nod.

Decades later Daphne was still saying she thought she had aged ten years during the nine months of her truncated seventh year at Hogwarts School.

She had been standing on the periphery of the crowd dancing in celebration at the wedding of Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacours when Kingsley Shacklebolt's patronus arrived with news of the Death Eaters' assault and capture of the Ministry of Magic in London. Her father and mother grabbed Daphne and Astoria and disapparated, just as the first Death Eaters began materializing, arriving back at Flinty Fields Farm none the worse for wear. Daphne's last memory of the Burrow was a collage of Ginny Weasley drawing her wand and casting something, Ron and Hermione with a fistful each of Harry's robe, and Harry twisting his head around with a frantic look on his face. After that she'd heard nothing from her intended for seventy-two hours, then nothing for three months.

Voldemort and his minions were thorough, quickly establishing which civil servants could be turned to serve the Dark Lord faithfully, then using the resources of the ministry to identify likely targets for extortion of funds or other goods or services.

Hugh and Emma Greengrass were preparing to send Daphne and Astoria to Beauxbatons for the year, before Severus Snape called on Hugh at Flinty Fields and convinced him he could keep the girls safe at Hogwarts. They had impeccable pedigrees and were members of Slytherin House. As such they would be under Snape's protection. Snape even went as far as to say that he would personally be in Hugh and Emma's debt if the girls came back to Hogwarts, as he feared the Dark Lord's wrath if there were to be a mass exodus of pureblood students. The Dark Lord, after all, was going to a great deal of trouble to lift pureblood witches and wizards to the apex of the human pyramid. It would be nice if the Dark Lord had the support of the very people for whom he was putting such a load on his time and resources.

Hugh and Emma went back and forth on the issue, several times. There were political changes afoot, that went without question. Things were looking very different around the ministry, from what they had heard. Still, their lives centered on a farm in Devon, a long way from London and all the political foolishness. They had both been at school at the same time as Severus Snape. They knew him from the Slytherin common room. Horace Slughorn was coming back and he had been head of house during Hugh and Emma's time there. If Daphne could finish her seventh year at Hogwarts, it would make sense for Astoria to attend as well.

After the brawl at the wedding, Harry, Ron and Hermione had holed up at #12 Grimmauld Place, laying low and trying to sort out what had happened. Harry was desperate to get word to Daphne that he was well, if shaken a bit, and to find out how she and her family were. He worried the problem for three days, even when he was going over the knowns and unknowns again with Ron and Hermione.

He hit upon a means of communicating that he thought would be secure, only executing it after he'd put it to his team.

"POP" sounded in Daphne's bedroom. She sat straight up in bed, wand pointed at the elf that stood on her dresser.

"Message?" pleaded the elf, holding up a folded piece of parchment.

"Aren't you Dobby?" Daphne asked.

"Yes, Miss Daphne, I've been sent. He asked me not to use names unless it is absolutely necessary."

"That's alright, Dobby, there's no need. Bring it here," said Daphne, lowering her wand and motioning for Dobby to come over by her bed. Dobby, of course, simply transported himself by some elfish means and went from the marble dresser top to Daphne, where he presented his message.

Daphne unfolded the parchment and started to read:

"Ron, Hermione and I are fine. Can't floo because the network is monitored. Same for a floo call. I need to know if you are safe. One word Yes/No to the elf. He'll let me know. Don't be holding this in your hand 1 minute after opening."

Daphne looked through tears at Dobby.

"Yes," she said, and Dobby disapparated with another "POP."

Daphne got out of bed and threw the parchment into the grate in her small fireplace. She nearly kissed it but was relieved she'd skipped that symbolic and sentimental act when the parchment burst into flames seconds after she let it go.

Daphne grabbed a bathrobe from the foot of her bed and put it on over her pajamas. She was wearing her favorite set, a top and bottom that had once been flannel but now had most of the fuzz worn down to thread, the top missing two buttons. Daphne turned one-quarter left and disapparated.

Harry was sitting on top of his bed at #12 Grimmauld Place, just beginning his de-briefing of Dobby when Daphne appeared at the foot with a loud 'POP.'

"What? Daphne…how? I took two days setting up that delivery, no one knows…DAMN!"

"Glad to see me, aren't you, Potter?" Daphne asked, trying to look like she could tell.

"NO! Dammit, yes, yes, of course I am, but what are you doing here? We're hiding out for a reason, the Death Eaters came after us at the wedding, then in a little coffee joint afterwards…"

"So, you ARE glad to see me, aren't you?"

"You keep asking, of course I am."

"I know," Daphne said with a little leer. She reached out and hooked an arm around Dobby, pulling her to him for a noisy kiss on his red, wrinkled forehead. "You can wait for a few minutes, can't you, Dobby? Master Harry will call when I'm gone."

Dobby popped outside Harry's room to await the promised summons.

"What do you mean you know?" Harry asked.

"I'm a farm girl, Harry Potter, and the last time I saw one of those in that state it was putting a smile on Buttercup's Red Devon face. It started Little Harry that very day, as a matter of fact. Now, are you going to listen?"

Harry looked down at the lump beneath his waistband. He was sitting on top of his bed in his underwear, cross-legged and the darn thing really showed up.

"Well, of course," the now-blushing Harry said, standing. He grabbed a pair of jeans from the back of a nearby chair and pulled them on over his shorts, gaining a little of his modesty back. Daphne gave him a wink.

"Better?" Harry demanded. Daphne smirked just a tiny bit.

"No, but under the current circumstances, certainly wiser," she said. "Now, Harry, we've both attained our majorities, so we are a bit freer than we were just a short time ago. I followed Dobby here, he had no idea, so don't punish him. Just a little-known trick embedded in Greengrass family magic. Close your mouth. Remember I advised you it's a lifelong study, so don't go getting all distracted every time you encounter some.

"I'm going back to Hogwarts," Daphne continued. "So's Tracey. So's Astoria. Hogwarts and Snape's regime will figure in your fight, one way or another, so you're going to need a network inside to keep you informed. Leave that to me. Don't reach out. I'll figure out how to get to you. Be thinking of what you want in terms of information. Got to go."

"We need to talk," Harry protested. "We need more time. We have to…"

"Can't right now," Daphne said. "Dobby's trail will be fading and I have to follow it back home. I don't want to know where we are. That way I can't give it up. Let me work with you, Harry. We'll kill that son of a bitch and then we can be together."

Daphne grabbed his shirt in her fist and pulled Harry close, kissed him full on the lips before pulling back, glancing down and giving his still-prominent lump a good looking-over.

"I've never done it, myself, but I've seen Buttercup and her beau going at it, and it really doesn't look that difficult."

Daphne was laughing out loud when she disapparated from Harry's room at #12 Grimmauld Place, leaving with a 'POP' and just a whiff of her bath soap.

Someone knocked on Harry's door. He hadn't heard any crashing or banging outside so he assumed #12 hadn't been raided.

"Come in," he said. Ron and Hermione entered, Dobby and Kreacher peeking around the jamb.

"What…? We heard…or thought we did," said Ron and Hermione as part of a jumbled sequence of interrogatives.

"Daphne," Harry said. "Something or some way I don't really understand. Maybe I can get her to teach me someday. Anyway, she's going back to Hogwarts, along with Astoria and Tracey. Great."

Harry was tempted to kick something but he was barefoot.

"Harry, you have got to get control of that—" Ron began.

"Shut it, Ronald," said Hermione. "For Merlin's sake, Daphne is risking her life coming here. Get out from under your prejudices so you can see things with some objectivity for a change."

Ron looked chastened, a bit.

"I'm just saying, she is in Slytherin, they're allies of Snape, Snape is obviously a Death Eater, and he murdered Dumbledore…" said Ron as if he were reading a list.

"Right, who needs a coffee or tea?" Harry asked, leading the way out into the hallway. "Kreacher! Drink orders. Coffee for me…"

"In the study, please, Kreacher," Harry said, determined to control his reactions to Kreacher's comments and observations about the three of them.

"Kreacher will serve the mudblood, the vile half-blood and the blood traitor as Master requests, of course, in the study," Kreacher said, disappearing into the kitchen and returning to the study off the main hall almost immediately. He carried two carafes, which he placed on a sideboard, then snapped his fingers to materialize three delicate bone china cups and saucers, all with substantial chips in their rims or showing cracks or both.

"The better china, please, Kreacher," said Harry, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "These can be disposed of as you see fit. The House of Black will be the most gracious and hospitable establishment in London, if doing so exhausts you and me both."

Hermione thought Kreacher betrayed just a little improvement in his disposition when Harry spoke positively about the House of Black. That bore further observation. Taking her new teacup and saucer, Hermione held it under her nose and sniffed. The aroma was exquisite. She had to give credit where it was due: Kreacher got tea right. Hermione wanted to compliment the elf on his tea-brewing skills but feared some perverse effect if she, the mudblood, said anything positive to him.

Once the study door was locked and Hermione had cast her best muffliato, Harry shared his thoughts about the coming campaign with his closest comrades.

"We'll need to know what's going on inside the castle," he said. "A trusted reporter who can speak freely. Internally, the people known to be our allies are going to be vulnerable. I have to try to get someone to watch their backs. Who knows? They might even be able to help us locate the remaining horcruxes."

"What do you have in mind?" asked Ron.

Harry thought, then thought some more.

"What I have in mind right this minute is to stop talking," Harry said as he picked up his coffee cup.

The next debrief took place in a tent in the Forest of Dean, with two effectives and one casualty in attendance.

"Much went right," said Hermione.

"Too much went wrong," said Harry.

"My arm," groaned Ron.

"Hermione says your arm is going to be fine, Ron," said Harry. "Take her word for it, because she really is that good. We now have a horcrux. That's good. We don't have a means to destroy it, or so it seems."

"That's bad," said Ron and Hermione together.

"Probably," said Harry. "But we live and learn, don't we? Find the means to destroy this horcrux, we find the means to destroy the rest of them. What's bad will eventually be good."

By the time Ron felt the need for a hiatus from horcrux hunting, being a fugitive and living rough, Harry had had enough time to think through another problem. He was completely blind to the current status and thinking of the force he was opposing. He had plenty of people willing to collaborate on the inside at Hogwarts, of course, but he had neither organization nor means of communicating.

At the beginning of their sixth year, Harry and Dumbledore had lurched their way into a solution to the problem of Kreacher's initial rebellion against becoming Harry's elf at #12 Grimmauld Place. They sent him to join the Hogwarts elves, which gave him something useful to do while re-socializing him after his years of solitude with only Walburga Black's portrait for company. Even though Kreacher refused to make peace with his new master, who he invariably referred to with some variation on 'the vile half-blood,' Harry was having some success with positive reinforcement. Almost against his will, Kreacher felt much less hostile when Harry did or said things that reflected positively on the Black family or #12 Grimmauld Place.

Harry sat outside the tent, back against a tree, casting the minimum warming charm he could to stay warm. He didn't really mind taking the watch. Hermione was getting tired of living rough. Let her sleep. Harry could just hear her breathing. When he judged it regular enough, he counted to sixty, five times, before he spoke.

"Kreacher, come here," Harry said. The elf appeared before him, half-naked in the December moonlight.

"Kreacher, thank-you for coming," Harry began.

"Kreacher must obey the vile half-blood and deserves no thanks for doing his duty," Kreacher replied.

"Are you warm enough? Do you have an elvish warming charm you can deploy?"

"Kreacher's comfort is not a concern for his master. It is unseemly for one in his position…"

"Kreacher, no matter what you think of me, you represent the House of Black," Harry said.

That got Kreacher's attention and he stood up straight in something like attention.

"It is most unseemly for my representative to be appearing before the young witches at Hogwarts in that kind of garb," Harry said, nodding at Kreacher's worn-out towel that barely covered him from waist to knees. "I can't give you anything to wear, which I understand, so I will make a suggestion. If you wish to represent the House of Black you must at all times present an image worthy of my illustrious predecessors. There are always towels being left behind in the showers and baths at Hogwarts. They are almost never claimed. You could, if you truly wanted to present a favorable image for the House of Black, find two with no names on them and see that they are washed and ironed. Keep them in your quarters for two days. If none of the students ask for them, then they are abandoned, aren't they? No one gave them to you. With a little needlework charm you would have yourself a respectable garment to wear."

Kreacher thought it over.

"The half-blood is correct," he allowed.

"If you needed to approach Miss Daphne, for some reason, you would be much more welcome if properly attired," Harry said. "Miss Daphne Greengrass is a pureblood witch with very proper manners and sensitivities, the kind of witch you yourself would be proud to call Mistress. The kind you could devote yourself to for a lifetime. Have you seen her about Hogwarts?"

"Kreacher has seen Miss Daphne, yes," said the elf. He was steeling himself, but some excitement was coming through.

"I can't be there myself, of course, so I am expecting you to be vigilant and alert me if there are any threats to Miss Daphne, or her sister, or Miss Tracey. You must be very careful and not call attention to Miss Daphne," Harry said. "That might endanger her under current conditions."

Kreacher was wrestling. His late mistress had enthused over Voldemort and transmitted that to Kreacher. Now, however, Kreacher worked inside Hogwarts and saw witches and wizards who had given no offense that he could see, being severely punished. Kreacher had a sense of justice, even if he was an elf and subservient by nature.

"If you see Miss Daphne, and you are alone, Kreacher, only if you are alone, I need you to do something for me. Just say one word to her: Nobiscum. Don't refer to me or say I sent the message."

Kreacher looked at Harry.

"Kreacher does not understand…"

"I know," said Harry. "That is for your protection. Miss Daphne will know. It will make her heart glad. I can promise you, Miss Daphne will be very grateful to you for the gift of that one word. We'll speak again, I promise. You are doing well."

Kreacher disapparated with a 'POP' that Harry worried would wake Hermione. There was no change in her breathing, though, so he returned to thinking through their problems.

One thing Harry needed to do, if it could be done without fear of discovery, was to talk to Daphne. He had a list of things he needed to dump on her.

Who were the committed Death Eaters among the new faculty? Were the DA members sticking together? Were any of them being singled out for persecution? In the event of a fight, who would be loyal to Voldemort? Who would fight against the Dark Army? How many would try to stay neutral?

Getting answers to those questions was critical to success if and when it came to a fight. Even if he'd still had Hedwig, she was so identifiable he would have been afraid to use her to take messages in and out. Harry needed a safe means of communication in and out of Hogwarts. Not to mention the Ministry, and the circle around Voldemort. Harry assumed defeating Voldemort would mean taking the two institutions, Hogwarts and the Ministry, one at a time, then shaking out the reliables from the compromised, then getting the Dark Army out on the plain while the Order and the DA held the high ground.

"All Gaul is divided in three parts," Harry thought. "But Julius Caesar did not face a general with horcruxes that need finding and destroying."

Ron chose to take his time off from the quest when the frustrations began to pile up. He let the setbacks get to him and when it all came to a head, he left to try the life of a fugitive on his own. Meanwhile, back at the tent, Harry and Hermione continued with the hard work of collecting the information that they hoped would lead them to the remaining horcruxes. They were methodical in their approach, always giving due consideration for security. Their Christmas research trip to Godric's Hollow made sense up to the point where Nagini the snake revealed she was animating the corpse of Bathilda Bagshot.

If Harry and Hermione had managed to kill Nagini in Godric's Hollow the expedition would have been a great success. As it was, Harry thought the most favorable assessment was a draw. The worst piece of luck was the loss of Harry's wand. The best was the valuable intelligence they'd collected on Gellert Grindelwald. Harry sorted through what they'd learned and tried to put it together. The puzzle was filling in but finding pieces was heartbreakingly slow.

Still, December was not a complete waste. Ron came back, pulled Harry out of the frozen pool, and destroyed the locket with Godric Gryffindor's sword. Ron and Hermione continued staging drama classes in their spare time. Harry kept puzzling over his unknowns. He started to devote more time to the study of his Potter grimoire. He found the pages on Desdemona.

Harry had been unaware of the phenomenon of the grimoire until Daphne explained it to him. Without the context of his personal family history and the existence of family magic, Harry had difficulty making sense of much of what he read. He enjoyed the essays that shed light on his ancestors and the times in which they lived. Much of the magic, the spells, formulas, and rituals, was completely above his head. His first reading of the Potter grimoire was cursory. He looked for the personal entries, observations of current events, and, particularly, anything that related to his forebears.

He found the first reference to Desdemona in one of the personal notes. Desdemona was a demon. Harry knew demons weren't to be taken lightly. Still, it sounded like Desdemona had not been a problem for Potters. Harry went through the grimoire, page by page, until he found the ritual for summoning Desdemona. It didn't look difficult.

"Anyone have any experience with demons?" Harry asked one evening. It was relatively warm and they were all outside the tent. Hermione had blessed the lighting of a small fire to cheer things up after she and Ron had conducted a wide-ranging security check.

Ron just looked at Harry.

"No," said Hermione, before she started to laugh. "No," she said a second time.

"Because I think I may have access to one," Harry said. "An ally."

"Harry, I don't think demons ally with wizards," said Ron. "Or any other kind of humans, for that matter."

"Ron is right, Harry," said Hermione. "I've never read…"

"Sure, I don't take anything away from your reading, but do you have any experience?" Harry asked.

"No," said Hermione. She looked at Ron, who shook his head.

"Well, I've been studying my family grimoire, barely scratched the surface. It's the most recent of the ones I found in the Potter vault. Unfortunately, the last page is from 1870, and I couldn't find another volume after that," Harry said.

"All well and good, Harry, but how does it help us?" asked Hermione.

"Good question," said Harry, "And the answer is I'm not sure just yet. However, as Tonks and I were walking out the door, a portrait just inside advised me to look up Desdemona. I've found her. She did a huge favor for a Potter back in the day. I haven't worked out the years and the genealogy completely, but I think I might be here as a direct result. I was thinking of asking if she is still interested in going on little adventures with the Potters."

Ron poked a stick into the fire while he waited for Hermione to speak. His own thoughts being so inchoate right then, he knew he had no chance of saying anything helpful. Hermione really wanted to defer to Ron, the one with the lifetime exposure to wizarding society, but he didn't seem capable. Reluctantly, Hermione took the lead.

"Harry, demons are a bad idea," she said. "Look where we are. If things get out of control, where will we go for help? Who will you call in the ministry to come rid your campsite of a troublesome demon?"

"Well, that's something we'd have to plan for," said Harry, adding, "Obviously."

"Three of us, one demon?" Ron pointed out.

"Could be four, possibly," said Harry. In for a penny…

"Four?" said Ron and Hermione in unison.

"I might be able to get Daphne," Harry said.

"How?" demanded Hermione.

"I can summon Kreacher," Harry said. "I asked for him one night on watch, and we had a little chat. He was tasked with delivering a short message for me, in my capacity of the head of the House of Black. It's been a few days and he hasn't led the snatchers to us yet, although I admit I've been much more alert since."

"Harry," Ron said, "Could you have brought it up before you did it? Was it a little impulsive to just go ahead?"

"Well, Ron, you weren't here, and Hermione was behind some very effective concealment charms…"

Hermione had to stifle a laugh.

"Gotcha, Ron," she observed.

"Yeah, yeah," said Ron. "I'm digging myself out of that hole a little at a time, I hope."

"Hey, you picked up the sword and destroyed the locket," said Harry. "That's a lot of dues paid. Not to mention jumping into the water, in the dark, and getting me out from under the ice."

Ron seemed mollified when Harry finished.

"The thing is, I sent Kreacher back with one word, Nobiscum, which he was to deliver to Daphne when they were alone," Harry went on. "I thought and thought about how to get a message to her. We know she can follow elves via apparation. I can summon Kreacher. She knows, or should know by now, that Kreacher has seen me, because of the message I sent. That wouldn't mean anything to anyone besides Daphne and the three of us, so even if it's overheard it doesn't lead back here."

Ron and Hermione shared a look.

"I don't see any flaws in your reasoning, Harry," said Hermione. "What do you want Daphne to do, and how are you going to protect her?"

"I need some help with this family magic," Harry said, holding up the grimoire. "The second part is harder. Kreacher can get her out of the castle and back with elf magic. Every minute she is gone, though, the risk of detection increases. Haven't figured that out yet. I'm open for suggestions."

No one came up with an answer before they agreed to put out their fire and sleep on the problem. Harry spent his hours on watch thinking about the structure of Hogwarts castle, trying to remember every detail of every route in and out that he had discovered in his six years in residence. Each avenue of approach had its virtues, but each had its drawbacks as well. The risk to Daphne always seemed too great to take the chance.

Later, when Ron had relieved him, Harry lay on his cot in the tent and tried to organize his thoughts, which kept switching from demons to elves of questionable loyalty to Daphne to family magic to demons.

"What?" the woman asked.

Harry looked her in the eye.

"I don't know," said Harry. "Yet. I don't know yet."

"Then why do you think I'm the solution to your problem?"

Desdemona. Her name was Desdemona.

"Yes, it's Desdemona," she said. "You summoned me. What. Do. You. Want?"

"I haven't summoned you, yet," Harry protested. "I just learned about you, from one of the portraits. She told me to look you up in the grimoire, and I did. You helped a Potter out one time, and we thought you might be interested in doing something again. We're working on…"

"For all the Immortals' sake, Harry Potter, just shut it. Logorrhea runs in your family, were you aware?" Desdemona asked. "I know what you're working on. You have something like a one in ten chance in succeeding, if I'm feeling generous. Do you have any idea what you would like me to do?"

"I don't have any idea what you can do," said Harry. "If I summon you…"

"You did summon me," said Desdemona, "You said my name. I came running. That's what good old reliable Desdemona does for Potter men."

"Miss Desdemona," said Harry, "By now even I recognize we are in a dream. I could wake up at any moment and you'd be a memory of a dream. This isn't the place to do our business. I really ought to summon you properly. The ritual doesn't look complicated. It would be better if I had Daphne here to discuss this with…"

Harry woke up. He sat up in bed and looked around the tent. No Desdemona. He got up and walked to the tent flap in his socks and looked out. Ron was walking slowly in the open space before the tent, looking this way and that, up and down. He appeared to Harry to be very involved in his watchstanding.

A bright light shone between the tent and Ron, a great CRACK sounded, and Daphne appeared. She shook her head and looked around.

"What?" said Harry, then seeing Ron had his wand in hand said, "Ron, no, it's Daphne, don't cast anything!"

"What?" Harry repeated, directing his query at Daphne.

"You said you wanted to talk to her," said Daphne. She sounded like Desdemona in Harry's dream.

"Desdemona?" asked Harry.

"Yes, although I'll shut up now and let you all get reacquainted."

"Harry Potter what have you done?" shrieked Daphne, this time in Daphne's voice.

"I haven't done anything, I was just having a dream where I was talking to Desdemona and I mentioned in passing that I needed to talk to you about the Potter grimoire and relations with demons and Desdemona took off. Apparently, she took off to fetch you in accordance with my casual observation," said Harry, adding, "In a…GOSHDARN…DREAM!"

"Fine," said Daphne, "I propose the following: Let's get a pentangle laid out here first thing. Hermione, got any chalk or flour or any kind of powder we can use for a pentangle? Oh, and candles, we'll need five, one for each point of the star. Then YOU, young lady, are going to un-possess me while we all discuss this civilly, like proper witches and wizards, and, um, one demon, do."

"I protest…" Desdemona tried, before Harry issued a peremptory, "Desdemona, please? Let's give Daphne's plan a try."

There was no more out of Desdemona. Maybe it was the please.

With everyone working there was a perfectly serviceable pentangle on the forest floor in about fifteen minutes' time.

"Desdemona, OUT!" Daphne commanded as she stood in the pentagon at the center. She gave a shudder all over before staggering out of the circle. Harry and Ron linked arms and helped her to a log. When they turned back, there in the pentagon stood a dark haired, dark skinned woman in a dress that looked like something from an old Roman mosaic. She wasn't completely materialized but looked fine, as demons go. She was barefoot and bare-armed and wore an elaborate silver bracelet on one ankle and armlets on both upper arms. Her eye makeup was best described as plentiful.

"Hello, Harry," said Desdemona with a shy smile. "We meet, at last."

"Now you listen to me," called Daphne from her log. "We're going to get one thing straight right now…"

"Harry," Desdemona giggled, "Don't take that bloodless plain-girl image she projects as indicative of anything. Oooh, Merlin, I do like to possess them at this age. They are so hot."

"If I may?" Harry asked, trying to sound firm and in charge although he was not sure he was either. He looked back and forth between Desdemona and Daphne.

"We're involved in some serious business," said Harry. "Magical Britain has been taken over to a great extent by a dark wizard. Daphne can be a big help since she's inside Hogwarts School, but she can't get what she learns out to us so we can act on it. We're doing something else out here. It involves staying away from the Dark Lord's forces while we look for some…things. Kind of a treasure hunt. At the end of it all there is going to be a fight. Me versus him."

"Yup," said Desdemona. "I'll help. I'll decide what I can do, and what I can't. You have to live by the rules of your world. It's not for me to violate that. It's the way things are set up."

Daphne had calmed down quite a bit. In fact, she was inhabiting her bloodless plain-girl persona again.

"Desdemona, can I ask you a question?" asked Daphne. "Before we go any further, are you a Potter family demon?"

"Actually, Daph, I'm a Peverell family demon," she said. "I was associated with them before the Peverell name existed. The night before Iolanthe Peverell married her Potter we had a long talk. She wasn't completely convinced of the quality of Potter's character and she asked me to stay on, just until she was sure he wasn't going to treat her badly to the point of needing correction, and I've been with Potters ever since. Oh, we've had so much fun. Anyway, Daph, is that what you wanted to know?"

"Pretty much," said Daphne. "Harry, Desdemona is associated with your family, but she doesn't actually belong to you. You two need to work on things of mutual interest, or expect to work on a quid pro quo basis, one hand washing the other, you could say. And I don't go by Daph."

"Oh, well, I'm sure we could make a deal on that, Daph," said Desdemona. "Now what do you want me to do?"

"We need a secure courier service," Harry began.

"There are certain problems if I try to do that, so I recommend you use the elf," said Desdemona. "He's loyal to you to a degree even he isn't yet aware of, and he comes and goes already, so he won't arouse suspicion."

Harry looked at Daphne, who nodded.

"Excellent," said Harry. "Can you do reconnaissance?"

"You'll have to find your own toys," said Desdemona. "It's your quest. Seems hard now but you'll thank me later."

"Great," said Harry, his tone indicating he didn't think it great at all. "Can I take it from this meeting that summoning you doesn't require an elaborate ritual? Since we had a conversation in a dream, of all places, and you went off from there and brought Daphne to us."

"Good observation, Potter," said Desdemona. "Very astute for one so ill-educated and inexperienced. I can see I'm going to have a GOOD time working with you."

"Now, just one minute, Desdemona," Daphne tried.

"Oh, Daph, you are so precious," said Desdemona. "So, if there isn't anything else, can I take Daph back before she's missed?"

"I guess so," Harry said, looking at Daphne. "I really need some help with the grimoire, but it will have to be sometime when we have an hour or two."

"Whenever that will be," Daphne said.

She got up from her log and walked to the circle. Harry stood right outside. They looked at each other but neither felt like putting on a show for a demon they barely knew, so they kept back, just reaching out to squeeze the other's hand. Daphne stepped into the circle, then into the pentagon. Desdemona disappeared, then Daphne, the puff of wind blowing out all the candles.

"They seem nice," said Ron. It was lame, but it served to break the tension.

"Well, Harry, what have we learned from our experience?" asked Hermione.

Harry looked more than a bit sheepish.

"Be careful when you're having a dream about demons," said Harry. "They can take idle speculation seriously, even in a dream."

"Good, that's one," said Hermione. "You have Peverell ancestry, did you pick up on that?"

"Not really," said Harry. "What do you think that means?"

"I do recall seeing a tombstone in the St. Jerome cemetery for Ignotus Peverell," said Hermione. "It had that triangular figure that keeps showing up. Did you notice?"

"I remember it," said Harry. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but I was kind of overcome in the cemetery. Not very observant. Then the snake…"

"Perfectly understandable," said Hermione. "That symbol seems to have a bearing on what we're about, at least to me. It keeps showing up. Someone added it to Beadle the Bard. You noticed Mr. Lovegood wearing it at the wedding. Do you think he might be able to tell us what it means?"

"We don't know anyone else, do we?" Harry asked.

"Not that I know of," said Hermione. "No one we have access to, anyway."

"You know where the Lovegoods live, don't you Ron?" asked Harry.

"Sure, it's not far from the Burrow," said Ron. "We can go by apparation."

Thus began an extraordinarily exciting and enlightening day. By the time it was over, Harry and friends had learned about the Deathly Hallows' significance and the elements of the triangular symbol, that the name of Voldemort had been embargoed and could no longer be spoken without attracting Death Eater enforcers, that the Malfoys held prisoners in their family dungeon at the Dark Lord's direction, and that Draco Malfoy could be disarmed with relative ease. They'd also lost Dobby, and Hermione had been branded 'Mudblood' by Bellatrix Lestrange.

Harry gave himself a day and a night at Shell Cottage to think through all of their new information and begin formulating a plan. Bellatrix' panic at seeing the sword of Godric Gryffindor outside of her vault at Gringotts virtually screamed at Harry: "Look in the vault! Look in the vault!"

If Desdemona wouldn't help find the horcruxes, perhaps she'd provide logistical support. Given Gringotts' layers of powerful goblin security measures, Harry thought it likely the only way in was with the cooperation of Gringotts. That meant getting Director Ragnak to take a meeting.

Harry came in from outside and motioned to Ron and Hermione. The three walked down to the broad strand where the calls of seabirds and the wash of sea water on sand guaranteed some privacy. Besides, the sounds were delightfully conducive to conversation. Harry explained his plan for getting access to the Lestrange vault while they walked.

"Madness," Ron pronounced.

"But if Gringotts will cooperate…" Harry suggested.

"How likely is that, Harry?" asked Hermione. "Gringotts remains neutral in disputes among the wizards. They serve everyone. It's how they survive."

"True, but this is one very bad wizard," argued Harry. "If the proposition is presented to Ragnak, in the right way, contrasting a return to normalcy with the self-evident drawbacks for everyone, Gringotts included, in the event of a victory by our opponent…Well, follow the logic. Ragnak is logical. His only passion is getting gold and, possibly, counting it after he's gotten it. The other side will destroy the magical economy and probably steal all the gold, given the chance."

"Still, goblins," said Ron. "Rational for them is not the same as for us."

"You make a good case, Harry," said Hermione. "Have you a plan for getting Ragnak to meet with you? You are the most wanted wizard in Britain at the moment. If he were inclined to help, or even step aside and give you free passage, cooperation with you would earn him a very painful death if word got out."

"I'm working on that," said Harry.

It was simple enough, in the end. Harry summoned Kreacher to Shell Cottage and instructed him to return to Hogwarts and bring Daphne back at the first opportunity. If something prevented her from coming in a reasonable time, Kreacher was to return and tell Harry in person. Kreacher was able to come back with Daphne in less than an hour.

"Anyplace you just have to be?" Harry asked.

"I've gone to see Madame Pomfrey, some kind of female thing, could be hours before I'm back in the classroom," Daphne said. "What's up?"

"I need to get into a vault at Gringotts, and I don't see how it is possible to defeat the security systems," Harry began. "I would ask for an appointment with Ragnak and make my pitch, but there are obvious problems with movement right now."

Harry went on, bringing Daphne into his confidence. He did not use the word horcrux, nor did he bring up the splitting of souls and the effect that would have on survivability. He emphasized the necessity of getting access to a vault and removing an item if they were to defeat the Dark Lord.

"Okay," said Daphne. "That assistant to the director was so nice. He offered his services if I ever needed anything from Gringotts in the future. I expect he meant if we needed to meet to talk about combining vaults and investments and all that red tape, considering how we arrived together and visited your family vault, but, he offered, so…"

One exchange of parchment notes later, Daphne gave Harry a very quick kiss on the lips and disapparated. Ragnak was not deficient in wiliness. He understood from the unusual request from Daphne for a crash meeting that something serious was afoot, probably related to the current national magical crisis. Daphne's destination was not Gringotts. Instead, following the application of some creative camouflage, she apparated to the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron and immediately went inside.

The crone in the black cloak and turban walked through the pub and took the stairs. She knocked twice on the door to Room Fourteen and waited for the croak of Ragnak's goblin voice before entering.

"Miss Greengrass," said Ragnak. "Please."

Daphne took the seat offered and accepted a cup of tea from Ragnak's assistant.

"So, how can Gringotts help you today, Miss Greengrass?" asked Ragnak.

Daphne outlined the problem, as far as she could. She emphasized the necessity of recovering a dark artifact if the Dark Lord was to be defeated. She acknowledged the difficulty everyone would have in protecting Gringotts. She freely admitted she was working with Undesirable Number One, as much as putting her life, and quite possibly, that of her immediate family in Ragnak's hands.

Ragnak acknowledged Gringotts' suspicions about the vault in question. Security, confidentiality and neutrality in wizarding disputes notwithstanding, Gringotts had standards and there was such a thing as going too far. Ragnak's first duty was to the bank, he said. He suggested Harry and his party present themselves at opening of business the next day, using whatever concealment they felt appropriate. They should expect some difficulties. Gringotts did have to put on a display in order not to be complicit, after all.

The next day, Daphne was back at Hogwarts when rumors started to circulate about some disturbance at Gringotts. The bank was one of the continuing institutions that supported the magical world. Dark Lord and Dark Army notwithstanding, every wizarding family expected Gringotts to be holding down its corner of Diagon Alley and still functioning when the current difficulties were over.

No one could attribute the gossip to a credible source. Even so, the astonishing details that kept coming in became more and more fantastic while at the same time sounding more and more like the kind of desperado moves Hogwarts had been seeing Harry Potter make for six and one-half years.

The reality was much more mundane, as in so many cases. Daphne had dropped off Ragnak's views on the matter on her way back to Hogwarts.

"Expect some difficulties? Put on a display?" asked Ron, incredulous.

"Yes," said Harry, "Of course they'll have to do something, won't they? Ragnak will have a plan. It's not like him to let this play out by chance. How about if we go ahead with Hermione's Polyjuice and your transformation to Bellatrix' mute thug from the Continent, me under the cloak…"

What actually happened was this: Hermione showed up as Bellatrix Lestrange and was recognized as a fake by an alert security goblin. He pointed the false Bellatrix and Ron the Euro-thug out to the human security personnel who took them to a back room for interrogation. Harry used the imperious curse to immobilize the guards. Hermione conjured a pack of Old Maid cards and they left the guards happily engaged.

"Mr. Potter…this way!" hissed Ragnak's assistant through a door hidden in the paneling. The path to the vaults had been confirmed to be clear of anyone not concerned with the operation, and access temporarily closed for maintenance. The Lestrange vault yielded to the assistant's hand and Harry sensed the Voldemortian presence of a horcrux almost immediately. He spotted Helga Hufflepuff's cup on a shelf and brought it down by sliding Draco's wand into one of the handles and flipping the cup to Ron.

"Sword?" Ron asked, looking at Hermione.

She reached in her bag, then shook her head.

"You lost it?" Ron demanded. His face flush and his eyes suddenly giving him a very dangerous look.

"No," said Hermione. "It was here. It must have gone back to Hogwarts, to the headmaster's office. That's what it does when it senses it isn't needed anymore."

Harry nodded.

"No matter," he said. "We've got the cup. When we have to destroy it, we'll have the sword at hand. Let's get out of here."

Of course, the best-laid plans of mice and men, et cetera. The human security force couldn't stay interested in Old Maid forever, had come to their senses, and made their way to the vaults.

"Take the dragon, he knows the way out," said the assistant.

"What about you?" the other three asked at once.

"I'll direct the operation to get you back," said the assistant, looking like a goblin in his element.

The dragon, freed from its chains, did know the way out, through a tunnel to the surface. It was taken out for exercise once weekly by a dragon-handling goblin on staff for just that purpose. All the death and destruction upstairs were part of Ragnak's arrangements, although the 'dead' goblins were paid handsomely for their silence.

Still, the rumors were true, or at least some were, and Harry, Ron and Hermione did 'steal' Gringotts' watch-dragon and fly north with their loot. That was the end of keeping their purpose concealed from Voldemort, of course. It wasn't that much of a loss, because they'd known they couldn't keep the secret forever.

By the time they got inside Hogwarts, the Dark Army was on the way. The DA and the Order knew they'd have to fight at some point. At least they had hopes this would be the last battle. Pansy Parkinson did everyone a big, big favor by showing her intentions, as well as the faction that saw things as she did.

"Library, the little window-bench," Harry managed to pass to Daphne before dashing off with Luna to seek out Helena Ravenclaw. He should have known better.

Daphne got tired of waiting for Harry to get back from whatever side-adventure he had going. There was fighting going on. It hadn't reached the library but it could get there. Daphne didn't want to be taken by surprise, so she left the library and went out to take a look around. She followed the noise up and down corridors and found Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco outside the room of requirement. The great door was just closing on some wicked fire when Daphne arrived.

"So," Daphne began. "What's next?"

"Daphne…" Harry tried.

"NO Harry Potter," Daphne said. "What was this all about? What is going on? What is next?"

"We found two dark objects that had to be destroyed," Harry said. "They figure in…, in the end. In ending all of this. There is very little left to do. I want you to take Draco and get him someplace safe."

Harry leaned in close and spoke just for Daphne.

"He isn't made for this," he said. "Get him to the Slytherin dorm or Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Out of the way."

"Sure," said Daphne, glad to have something to do. "What about you?"

"One more little thing," said Harry. "Now, the snake has to die. They know. So does Neville. It's an Animagus, it just can't change back to human anymore. It's intelligent. He communicates with it. He's trying to protect it, at all cost. Neville will be looking for his chance, but I think we might have an edge. Desdemona!"

"Hello, Harry," Daphne said, her voice raising up thoughts of the oldest, smoothest mead in a generous, shared snifter, birdsong, a hammock, and lovers.

"Harry…" Hermione tried.

"Desdemona," Harry said as he unwrapped Daphne's arms and tried to step back to a chaste distance. "This isn't the time or place…"

"Oh, it is, Harry," said Desdemona. "You don't know how much fun love can be until you're grabbing a little in the midst of a desperate battle."

Ron looked at Hermione, a questioning, hopeful look on his face.

"Not one chance in a thousand, Ronald," Hermione volunteered through gritted teeth.

"Desdemona," Harry said, "We have a problem. There is a great snake about. She's Voldemort's familiar, an Animagus that's stuck in her snake form. She will be confronting one or more of us and someone will have a shot at her, but she is fast and treacherous. You're going to possess her and wait until we need a little advantage. Then I want you to take control of the snake. Make her coil up around herself, or something. Then save yourself. Timing will be crucial. Can you do that?"

"Of course," said Desdemona. "Can spindly-legs get me close? That would make it easier."

"Count on it," Harry said, not at all sure he could guarantee Daphne's cooperation.

"Let me talk to Daphne."

"I heard you, Harry Potter," said Daphne. "You're so presumptuous."

"Daphne, if you don't want to," Harry began.

"Oh, shut it, Potter," said Daphne. "It's a good plan. I'm annoyed you came up with it on your own, that's all. First of all, I have to get Blondie out of this mess. I'll look for the snake on the way. Maybe we can take care of two things at once. Are you listening, Desdemona?"

"Of course, Daphne."

Desdemona's voice was coming out of Daphne's mouth now.

"When you can see the snake, I'll leave you. She won't even know I'm there."

"Great," said Harry. "Now, I have an appointment."

He hugged Ron, Hermione and Daphne, adding a kiss with Daphne, then dashed away.

Voldemort took his best shot in the Forbidden Forest. Of course it wasn't good enough, but Harry did such an acting job no one was the wiser until he revealed himself back at the castle. Voldemort felt his last horcrux wink out with Nagini. After that his heart really wasn't in the fight with Harry, who would wonder for as long as he lived if Tom Riddle had actually started to feel the beginnings of affection, or even a little bit of love, for another being in Nagini. It didn't matter in the end, of course, because they were both gone from the scene.

Desdemona spoke up as soon as Voldemort went down.

"Get to Daphne, Harry," she said. There was no playfulness in her voice. "She's got a problem."

"Where?" Harry asked.

"Inside. Second floor corridor."

Harry didn't stop to ask where Desdemona was coming from, he just ran up the stairs, two at a time.

Daphne did indeed have a problem. Thinking everything had finally settled down she'd run to the dungeons where Astoria and Tracey had been waiting patiently. No one was around to watch the Slytherins that had been escorted down at Professor McGonagall's direction, so Daphne just walked in and found them.

"Let's go," she said with a 'come-along' gesture. She turned without another word and headed for the stairs. They were turning into the second-floor corridor before Daphne spoke again.

"Last time I saw him…" she began, almost to herself.

"Will be the last time you ever see him, blood traitor!" said Amycus Carrow as he stepped out of a doorway, wand up and ready to cast.

"Wands! All three of you!" he shouted.

Daphne thought Amycus meant what he said. She reached down and grasped Astoria's hand, then Tracey's.

"Love you," Daphne said.

"Love you, too," said both of her companions.

Amycus couldn't resist wasting time on a little taunting.

"You three had it all, with the Dark Lord, and you threw it away," said Carrow. "Big, big mistake. Cast your lot with Potter? Stupid, stupid…"

Harry came up behind Carrow, assessing the situation as he walked. He had thrown his cloak over himself but wasn't making an effort to be quiet. Carrow began to turn as Harry swept the cloak off, motioning down, down with his left hand. Daphne caught his meaning, held tight to Astoria and Tracey's hands and put the three of them on the floor.

"Difindo!" Harry heard inside his own thoughts.

The cutting curse started at the top of Amycus Carrow's head and sliced cleanly down and through his groin. The two halves of the late Amycus Carrow held together for a second and Harry watched the disbelief hit both sides of Carrow's face as the separation began.

"Well done, Potter," said Desdemona from inside Harry's head.

"Well done, Potter," said Daphne, with neither help nor prompting from Desdemona.

"Ooooo…never seen that before," said Astoria.

"Ewwwww….," said Tracey.

"Clean-up needed on the second floor," Harry muttered, then, "Peeves!"

Desdemona spoke through Harry.

"Peeves, get your poltergeist manifestation over here right now, there's some trash that needs throwing-out!"

Peeves materialized in the corridor.

"Wish I could still vomit," he said as he looked over the last earthly remains of Amycus Carrow.

Harry took over.

"Peeves, you like throwing things. How about throwing all this out that window over there, nothing's down below? Then a little water to wash down the floor. Get the corridor fit for decent people to see."

"And if I refuse?" asked Peeves.

"You heard Desdemona, didn't you?" said Harry. "You two know each other, I could tell by the way she called you."

"Not Desdemona, milord, have mercy, I beg you," replied Peeves, his attitude transformed.

"Then please, Peeves, hasten to cleanse the corridor of this pestilence and earn my eternal gratitude," said Harry, before turning away and motioning for his charges to follow.

"Where are we going?" asked Desdemona from inside Harry.

"Where are we going?" asked Astoria.

"Something our friendly demon said to me stuck in my mind," Harry replied. "We had to find our own toys. Some of my toys are missing, and I aim to get them back."

Harry led his party past the gargoyle and up the spiral stairs to the headmaster's rooms. Several minutes of pandemonium followed as the former headmasters' portraits clapped, cheered and congratulated Harry and his team. Even Phineas Nigellas Black joined in, skeptical as he had been of Harry's suitability for almost any task save insolence.

"What plans, Lord Black?" asked the late headmaster.

"Daphne?" said Harry as he opened his arm to bring Daphne close.

"Headmaster, may I present the Honorable Miss Daphne Greengrass? She is a Devon-bred pureblood witch of the most exquisite quality, farm-raised and full of energy. I plan to make her the mistress of #12 Grimmauld Place as soon as I can negotiate arrangements with her father. After that, no plans. Make my wife happy. That's it."

This set off another round of cheers and congratulations from the portraits, which were still going on when Professor McGonagall walked in.

"Potter, what…?" she asked.

"I've come to examine the headmaster's bookshelves," said Harry. "I suspect there are proscribed volumes…"

He stepped over to the shelves and spotted three volumes of Peverell grimoire and two of the Potters.'

"Aha!" he said. "I anticipated something of a haul, hence my assistants' presence. Witches?"

Harry pulled the books from the shelves and handed them round. Harry took the most recent volume of the Potter grimoire and crossed the room to stand before Dumbledore's portrait.

"Wake up!" he shouted.

Dumbledore did a credible performance of an old man rudely awakened from a most enjoyable nap.

"Were you going to share with me the meaning of the family grimoire, Professor?" Harry demanded.

"Of course, Harry," said the portrait Dumbledore, "And lest you think I stole those, let me assure you I simply borrowed them and held onto them for safekeeping, until you were old enough and knowledgeable enough to use them."

"How did you get them out of the vault?" asked Harry.

"They weren't in the vault," said Dumbledore. "They were in your parents' house in Godric's Hollow. They'd have been pilfered, or destroyed by weather and vermin if left there."

"Hmm…" mused Harry. "I owe you thanks for saving them, then. Your sense of timing was getting away from you, though. I'd have made good use of these the last few years."

"Perhaps, perhaps not," said Dumbledore. "We walk before we run. In any event, we can't re-write history, and the outcome has been most favorable. I can see Miss Daphne agrees with me."

Harry looked and Daphne was beaming at him, seconded by Tracey and Astoria.

"Point," said Harry. "Headmistress, I'll take my leave. These witches have parents. I have to make my report. They will want me to account for my actions."

Once out in the corridor Harry proposed, in front of Astoria, Tracey and the gargoyle.

"Not that I want to put you under any pressure to say yes…" Harry said, looking up from the spot where he'd taken a knee.

"Potter," said Daphne with just a little exasperation in her tone. "Of course. Stand up and let me kiss you properly."

Thus, the rumors that had been swirling for nearly a year were borne out by events. Negotiations went smoothly. Hugh Greengrass didn't have a male heir so he made a pitch for Harry and Daphne's firstborn son to take the surname Greengrass. Harry countered with a stipulation that the child would be given the name James Greengrass Potter and that the family grimoire would be annotated conferring that name on the firstborn of the male line of Potters for as long as it continued.

Harry ended the story of how he met Daphne right there.

"What do you think?" he asked Doria.

Harry was a fair storyteller, but he'd outdone himself. Doria wasn't the only one listening. A dining room full of Potters, Potter in-laws and associates sat with tea, coffee or little pieces of stemware holding all manner of libations when he finished.

Doria pulled herself up and kissed her grandfather on the cheek.

"I think you and Grandmother are heroes, Grandfather," she said.

"Ah, well, we're very happy together, and we're happy we have all of you, so that's an accomplishment," Harry said. "Other than that, we're just an ordinary magical couple."

Author's Note: This concludes An Ordinary Magical Couple. Many thanks to everyone who took the time to leave a note or added An Ordinary Magical Couple to your favorites list.